The Revolutionary War
by YukiNurosaki
Summary: Well, this is about England and America during the end of The Revolutionary War. There will be a Good and Bad end, and they will be in two different chapters! So yeah, Enjoy!
1. Good End

The Revolutionary War (Good)

The storm was unforgivable.

As I kneel on the cold, hard ground, a million thoughts race through my mind- _How? How could this happen? How could I be so stupid to allow this? Why would he do this? How could he do this to me, to us?_ Sobbing, I look up to the only one who could put me in this state, the only one I've loved and trusted this much, and the one that I once called 'My Own'. He's looking at me, almost like he's looking _down _on me. I try to speak, but with the knot in my throat and the look on his face I find it nearly impossible. His demeaning stare turns to one of pity as he scrutinizes my face.

"Wh-Why?" I begin to speak, but the sobs take over. Gaining composer, I close my eyes and try to speak again. "Why? Why did you want to leave? How could you do this to me?' shaking, I stood up, 'I treated you like my own. I took you in, I clothed you, I fed you, I comforted you, I raised you, and I gave you love when no one else would!" I was yelling at the top of my lungs, as if trying to get it through his thick skull. "I called you 'My Own'! I raised you to be a proper gentleman! What can freedom get you? What's so important about it? All freedom gives you is heartache- heartache and loneliness! You never have someone to comfort you or treat you right or someone to trust! When you have freedom, all anyone ever does is stab you in the back, kick you while you're down, and mistreat you! How can that be desirable? Why would you want that? Why would anyone want that? How could anyone desire that?' I scream, not really at him, just anyone in hearing proximity, 'Huh? Well, tell me! Why would anyone want that?" Finally going quiet from my fit, I open my tear-filled eyes to look at him. He's just standing there, watching me. He's watching me not with a look of shock or fear from my sudden outburst, but one of pity- the same look he had earlier. He hadn't changed his posture, gaze, or location. He just stood there, watching me. "Wh-what's wrong with you?' I questioned, 'Who are you? Have you changed that much? Has this war and 'Freedom' thing done this to you?"

He just stood there, and it was driving me nuts. It wasn't the under reaction that bothered me; it was the no reaction. This couldn't be the same America that I had raised. No, the America I raised was loving and kind and caring and always _overreacted, _this _couldn't_ be my America. As soon as that thought escaped my mind, I was engulfed in this warmth that I hadn't felt in a long time. Not sure what was happening, I stood there dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, England,' His word struck me like lightning, 'I- I know this hurts you, and believe me, it's destroying me on the inside, too. But, this is something I have to do; this is important to me. Just, promise me that you won't blame yourself for this. I love you, England. Thank you for all you've done for me; I can never repay you for those years. I know times will be tough, but I'll be tougher; you raised me that way, after all. So please, forgive me for this." He spoke that final sentence as he released me and turned around, only to pause momentarily, and continued to walk away. Watching him leave me has to be the most heart-shattering thing I've ever witnessed in my life. He left me. Falling to my knees, I began to cry harder as I continued to watch him. Even though it hurt like crazy, even though he walked away from me, and even though he tore my heart out, I, and no one else, could deny how much he's grown. At that moment, I finally saw the man he'd grown to be.

_Heh, that bloody git sure has matured. From now own, times will be tough, and you know that, just don't rush into everything like the berk I know you are. Just remember, that I'll always be right behind you, supporting you, like I always have and always will; if you get into any trouble, I'll be there, to pick you up, dust you off, and send you on your way, like old times; and no matter what others say, I know you can do it, America, I believe in you. You finally have freedom; you've earned it, and you deserve it. Farewell, old chap._


	2. Bad End

The storm was unforgivable.

As I kneel on the cold, hard ground, a million thoughts race through my mind- _How? How could this happen? How could I be so stupid to allow this? Why would he do this? How could he do this to me, to us? _Sobbing, I look up at the only one who could put me in this state, the only one I've loved and trusted this much, and the one that I once called 'My Own'. He's looking at me, almost like he's looking down on me. I try to speak, but with the knot in my throat and the look on his face I find it nearly impossible. His demeaning stare turns to one of pity as he scrutinizes my face.

"Wh-Why?" I begin to speak, but the sobs take over. Gaining composer, I close my eyes and try to speak again. "Why? Why did you want to leave? How could you do this to me?' shaking, I stood up, 'I treated you like my own. I took you in, I clothed you, I fed you, I comforted you, I raised you, and I gave you love when no one else would!" I was yelling at the top of my lungs, as if trying to get it through his thick skull. "I called you 'My Own'! I raised you to be a proper gentleman! What can freedom get you? What's so important about it? All freedom gives you is heartache- heartache and loneliness! You never have someone to comfort you or treat you right or someone to trust! When you have freedom, all anyone ever does is stab you in the back, kick you while you're down, and mistreat you! How can that be desirable? Why would you want that? Why would anyone want that? How could anyone desire that?' I scream, not really at him, just anyone in hearing proximity, 'Huh? Well, tell me! Why would anyone want that?" Finally going quiet from my fit, I open my tear-filled eyes to look at him. He's just standing there, watching me. He's watching me not with a look of shock or fear from my sudden outburst, but one of pity- the same look he had earlier. He hadn't changed his posture, gaze, or location. He just stood there, watching me. "Wh-what's wrong with you?' I questioned, 'Who are you? Have you changed that much? Has this war and 'Freedom' thing done this to you?"

He just keeps standing there, watching me. _What could he be thinking?_ "What's wrong with you? How can you just stand there?" I plead for a reply. Suddenly, he turns his back on me. "I'm sorry, England, but this is something I have to do," is all he says as he walks away from me. Speechlessly, I stand there, watching him walk away from me. Falling to the ground, I begin to bawl. As his figure gradually grows smaller in the storm, I can't help but ask myself,

"_Where did I go wrong?"_


End file.
